


Cat that got the Caleb.

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [57]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Caleb notices that Molly acts very cat-like, and decides to undertake an experiment to see whether or not he'll purr.Spoiler: The cat that gets the Caleb is not Frumpkin.





	Cat that got the Caleb.

**Author's Note:**

> hte sex implied  
> (typo intentional)
> 
> This ALL comes from molly being shocked and making that little noise when Caleb puts his hands on his shoulders in where the river goes  
> thank you taliesin jaffe for giving me a reason to live

The more that Caleb watches Molly, the more cat-like tendencies he seems to notice in the tiefling. He first noted the way that Molly’s tail would flick, side to side and whip as it turned at the edges. This pattern happened low when he was angry, Caleb would catch the squint and the pull at the corners of his mouth, his nose, the barely restrained snarl. Even his teeth were cattish, the sharp canines that had caught Molly’s own lip more times than Caleb could count, he himself has dabbed at the small cuts with a damp cloth as Molly seethes on the floor, his anger rarely toward one of the Nein, rarely toward anyone in particular, more at himself or his situations, or the injustice of the Empire. He hisses, and flinches when Caleb swipes the cloth over his gently bleeding lip, but mumbles a gentle thanks when Caleb pats his shoulder and moved away to rinse.   
  
When Molly is excited, his tail lashes in a similar way, maybe more of a figure eight than a straight line in the air. It still makes the quick wooshing sound when it changes direction, high, almost above his head, it may even make it when he’s so excited it stands up straight. This is the Molly that Caleb like the most, he thinks, all wonder and wide-eyed as he leans over the table in awe of a new spell that Nott has learned, or some odd piece of jewellery that Jester has made. Caleb sits back in his chair and sips at his whiskey, the burn in his throat is almost as strong as the beat of his pulse with the sheer joy of seeing Molly so happy, because when Molly is happy, it’s infectious. He’s always happy. It’s always infectious.   
Caleb has found himself, less often, upset or troubled, because all he needs to do is look at Mollymauk and everything feels like it’s suddenly easier to deal with, his inner resolution steels itself without his permission. He doesn’t mind so much, it’s been a long while since he had a reason to live like this.

 

There are other cat-like things that Molly does. He stretches his arms forward when he yawns, his fingers splay in the same way as Frumpkin’s paws when  _ he _ yawns, tongue curling back just like the cat’s, Caleb either didn’t notice this for the first week or so, or Molly has only just picked it up from Frumpkin as he pads around the group. The Gods know that Frumpkin enjoys Molly’s company, as much as he doesn’t have the foggiest idea of how to treat a cat. The amount of times that Molly has thrown Frumpkin in an effort to get him to do something, and he always does, but he  _ doesn’t need to be thrown _ . He’s a familiar, not a stray, and Caleb’s wired it into him to listen to Molly when needs be.   
Caleb wakes up a few times in the field to find the weight of Frumpkin gone from his chest, where the cat usually sits, and when he blinks through to Frumpkin’s eyes to find out where he is, he sees the sleeping face of Mollymauk. Or, once, the intent expression on Molly’s face as he sits on watch, twirling a scimitar between his fingers. He won’t be caught off guard again, not after Caleb almost-

In the same way that Frumpkin sleeps on Caleb’s chest to keep him safe, Caleb woke up the morning following the ambush to find Molly sprawled over him, oddly light despite his strength and physique. Caleb had panicked, for the first few seconds, but when he’d breathed the scent of lavender and sweat and blood he’d  _ known  _ because that’s the kind of detail that his brain ingrains like a token. He’d wriggled loose an arm and thrown it over Molly, made sure to tug his coat back up and around his shoulders. The last thing he remembers before falling back to sleep in the grey light of dawn is running his fingertips gently against Molly’s hair and feeling a rumble that reminded him suspiciously of a purr.

 

That’s a theory that Caleb decides to test, they sit in The Leaky Tap, exhausted, so much so that Molly is resting his chin on his arms, folded on the table. He starts by setting a hand to Molly’s shoulder, the same way he does when he flickers to Frumpkin’s eyes, and Molly startles a little. He gives a  _ mrrp _ of shock before he catches Caleb in the corner of his sights and settles again, lifts one hand briefly to pat the one Caleb has on his shoulder, and drops back to his half-asleep state.   
Caleb always chooses the seat next to or across from Molly. He’s a marvel, there’s always another layer and he’s fascinating, Caleb could spend all day staring and studying everything, the way he walks, the way his hair bobs and shakes when he yawns or laughs.   
Right now, Caleb’s scientific study is  _ does Mollymauk purr? _   
His hand creeps slowly from Molly’s shoulder to his neck, the ridiculous coat is thrown over the back of the chair and he knows that the back of Molly’s neck is heavily scarred from the convenience of the angle when it comes to drawing blood. With any luck, that means that Molly’s nerves will be less sensitive here, not something that Caleb can lay his own claim to, there’s a reason he protects that part of himself more than the others and that is  _ sensitivity _ .   
He reaches Molly’s hairline and climbs, he sees Molly’s face tilt toward him, but he’s curious, the way that his tail is waving, a little small loops not too high, that tells Caleb he’s curious about what’s going on.   
Caleb picks a spot behind Molly’s horn, between the base and his ear, somewhere he suspects will be sensitive, and begins to scritch, the same way he would with Frumpkin, only lighter.   
The effect is instant.   
Molly peeps in shock, and his whole body goes lax, his tail hits the floor with an audible thump as he pushes against Caleb’s hand, and if it wasn’t for Jester talking animatedly about Beau and Yasha, they  _ definitely _ would have heard it. Yasha did, Caleb sees her look over with brief shock, and that fades quickly into the knowing smile that Caleb has come to love and envy. Of course Yasha would know about this trick.   
And there it is.   
It starts quiet and grows in volume as Caleb’s pressure increases, the purr, rumbling through Molly’s chest and throat and it’s such a beautiful noise, Caleb captures it like he would a firefly in a jar and stows it away in his mind forever.   
Fjord begins to take notice, and Caleb slows quickly, giving Molly the chance to shake himself back into his mind and sit up, he side-eyes Caleb with what looks like a smirk. Caleb drops his hand under the table.   
He feels something wrap, a looping spiral up his arm, and doesn’t need to look to know it’s Molly’s tail, a reassurance that Caleb hasn’t overstepped, and that Molly enjoyed the special treatment, he slips back into his confidence as though it’s nothing. He makes fun of Beau and trades some insults with her before he claims he’s tired and stands, a quick, pointed look to Caleb, and he leaves.   
The table eases into quiet conversation about the fights of the day, and Caleb watches Fjord inch closer every time Jester talks, until they’re almost shoulder-to-shoulder.   
“That was an invite if I ever saw one.” Fjord says quietly without looking away from the conversation, and Caleb suppresses the shudder threatening to run through him.   
“Nott-”   
“I’ll placate her, make up some excuse for y’ if I gotta. If you’re in my bed, I’m takin’ yours.” It’s a promise and a genial warning, and Caleb smiles despite himself.   
“Thank you.” He says, softly, to Fjord, and receives a pat on the knee in return. He leaves the table wordlessly, trailed only by Nott’s eyes, he thinks she might follow, for a moment, but Fjord catches her gaze and presses a finger to his lips and she settles in with Jester again, to play Parker for a handful of silver that’s been going back and forth between them for games.

 

He knocks on Fjord and Molly’s door and is pulled in by the lapel.   
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t join me.” Molly says, he’s dangerously close, Caleb’s up against a wall and with anyone else it would be terrifying but this is Molly, and he’s playing around, Caleb knows him. The flash of canines is a challenge, and Caleb knows how to make this faux-angry cat submit, if necessary, his hands are at Molly’s shoulders and all he has to say is  _ no _ , all he needs to do is push, but he doesn’t, and Molly gives a pleased hum as Caleb’s hands ball in the collar fabric of his coat.   
“Mind the claws.” Caleb reminds Molly before he pulls, and Molly doesn’t get a chance to snipe back about how meticulously he dulls his claws into neat half-moons before he’s tugged into a hard kiss, this isn’t the way that Caleb imagined this experiment going, but there’s a thousand other experiments that just opened up under his fingertips, under Molly’s, a hand slips under Caleb’s coat and shirt and he feels nails press gently to the bare skin of his hip and nearly arches in shock.   
“Point taken. Point not taken.” He says and corrects himself in the same breath, smug expression for the joke, Molly huffs a sigh because he’s meant to be the funny one.   
“We really ought to feed you more.” Molly comments as he uses his magnetic draw more than his hands to pull Caleb away and back to his bed, they collapse, Caleb is half on-top of Molly and doesn’t care, whatsoever, he’s too busy trying very, very hard to keep kissing without biting his own tongue as he falls.

  
  


Nott is dubious, and if it had been anyone but Fjord, she wouldn’t have trusted them, she thinks. But Fjord seems the most understanding, and the Gods only know it’s been so long since someone understood her and Caleb, even if she needs to explain, and she spends an hour, maybe, the night that Caleb disappears to Molly’s room. Explaining.    
Fjord sits in Caleb’s bed and asks questions, and she answers what she’s comfortable with. When there’s something she isn’t, she tells him, and he nods and moves on to different territory. If it had been Beau, or Jester, they would never have let it go. Maybe, perhaps, that’s why she’s so relaxed about letting Fjord sleep in Caleb’s bed, why she doesn’t feel scared without Caleb there. She might worry for Caleb, but Fjord assures her that Molly will keep his promise to keep him, to keep  _ them _ alive, and she can’t trust anything but she believes that.    
She wakes before Fjord in the morning and spends her time tidying up, because she hadn’t realised how messy the room was until Fjord had come in and she’d had the chance to fret. She can hear giggling from the girls’ room next door, and decides that she might as well check on them, if she can’t check on her boy yet.   
She picks the lock, she knows Jester will be proud even if Beau tries to pulverise her, and finds the three in a cuddle huddle on Beau’s bed, Yasha in the middle with Beau draped over her shoulders, Jester in her lap and looking directly at Nott with a mixture of shock and pride.   
“Did you pick our fuckin’ lock?” Beau asks, glaring daggers, and Nott nods avidly, Jester sits up and squeals excitedly,   
“I am so proud of you!” she’s up off the bed and over to Nott and hugging, Nott squeaks at the sudden force but makes a valiant attempt to hug back, “You’re doing so well!”   
“They’re- they’re Beau’s tools.” Nott half-heartedly protests, though she feels pride swell in her chest for herself. Beau groans, disgruntled, perhaps, and crawls into Yasha’s lap.   
“A combined effort, then?” Yasha directs her question to Beau, who nods, grudgingly,   
“‘S a skill, I S’pose. Gotten us outta the odd tough spot. You can just knock next time, Nott.”   
“Sorry.”   
Nott lets Jester pull her into the room and sit her on the bed.   
“So, what’re you doing heeeeere?” Jester pokes like she already knows, “Where’s  _ Caleb _ ?”   
“He- he stayed with Molly, did you not, see them leave?” Nott looks from Jester to Yasha to Beau, only the latter of which shakes her head.   
“Oh, good!” Jester chirrups, “It is about time, the amount of times I’ve caught Molly muttering about him.”   
“I thought Molly was dense.” Yasha agrees, a smile on her face, “And then I met Caleb.”   
“He is very smart!” Nott protests, “He knows a lot of spells!”   
“He doesn’t really know when someone is  _ flirting _ with him though, does he?” Yasha replies, it’s more rhetorical than not, and Nott’s mouth opens but she can’t think of a response.   
There’s a bang from next door, a muffled  _ ow, fuck _ , and Jester and Nott scramble up simultaneously, skittering out to check on Fjord. It sounds like he’s fallen out of bed, understandable, when one gets used to sleeping in a double, the change to single must be hard.   
They bump into Caleb in the hall, Molly’s coat is pulled around him too tight to see much, but there’s a lack of dark cloth around his neck so Jester suspects he’s shirtless. There’s a hint of a purple-red mark, too, he looks quite like a deer in the headlights.   
“Not my business.” Jester winks and grins and slips into Caleb’s room, Nott stops and stares at him. There’s a long, silent pause.   
“Where are you going?”   
Caleb tries three times to talk, before squeaking out the word “Washroom.” and Nott nods, squinting.   
“Washroom.” She repeats and points at him, then follows Jester to check on Fjord.   
Caleb skitters away to the washroom.


End file.
